Stay With Me
by n4trix
Summary: No one wants to be alone. GSR Oneshot Spoilers for 6x24.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No money was made from this story.  
**Rating:** PG   
**Pairing:** GSR  
**Spoilers:** 6x22 "Time of Your Death" and 6x24 "Way to Go"  
**Summary:** No one wants to be alone.  
**Author's Note:** New spoilers for 6x24 means a new story from me. I hope you enjoy it :) Again, there are spoilers in this story that will change your perception of the finale and the episodes leading up to it. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

-----

_346._

There are 346 flecks of greenish-grayish dots on the linoleum floor tile by my right foot. I thought hospitals were supposed to be sterile and white, therefore clean and not having floors with greenish-grayish flecks of whatever on their linoleum.

Bright white hospitals have never been my favorite place. I've always been much more at home in the dimmer caverns of the morgue. I can handle it there. What's done has been done, I'm just there to analyze and learn. No one person's life hangs in the balance when I'm in the morgue. But in this hospital? A different story.

I sit here now, my khakis sharply contrasting the deep chocolate brown of the vinyl chair, in this hospital where my best friend's life hangs in limbo. I'm not just speaking of life and death, but life and _life. _Jim can recover from this surgery and continue with the life he had 4 hours ago, or he can never fully recover and his _life_ will be over as he knows it. And the kicker? _I_ had to make the decision that put his _life_ in limbo. I, Gil Grissom, son of a deaf artistic mother and a dead botanist father, got to play God.

And I never wanted to.

He's in surgery now. It'll be some time before the doctors let us know what his condition is, how the surgery went, _if he'll ever be a cop again_.

Nick and Greg look lost. They're both sitting on the other side of the modest waiting room where we've set up camp. Greg, stoic with slightly red-tinged eyes, is staring down the cover of a People magazine, trying to focus on something, _any_thing but why he's at the hospital. Nick is sitting to his left and has placed a supporting hand on Greg's knee. He's trying to talk to him, gently whispering reassuring words. _"It'll be ok, man… Brass is a tough guy. He'll be out before you know it. Ya gotta be strong for him, Greg… be strong for me." _I feel like I'm intruding, but reading lips is second nature.

Warrick is a couple chairs down from Nick and Greg. He too looks lost, but a lot more than just Jim's condition is bothering him. Head bent down, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. There is a faint line on his left ring finger, pale against his darker complexion. He's already lost one thing today, I don't know if he could lose another.

The person I would guess to be at his side is missing from our camp. She's up a floor with her daughter. I haven't heard many details yet, but a teenage joy ride went sideways and some kids got seriously hurt – Lindsay being one of them.

There is someone to my right, a couple seats down. She's been keeping her distance, but also giving me some of the support I need, crave. She idly flips through one of the entertainment magazines made available, not really paying attention. And like I have been able to do for years, I can feel her gaze periodically, watching me, caring. I'd like to meet her eyes, just once, to silently thank her. But right now, another floor tile needs my attention.

No one is saying anything now. There is a strange sense of re-evaluation in the air. I can get a sense of it from the others and I know some of it comes from me. My life, academically, has been a success. Born a scientist, I have lived a scientist's life and it will seemingly end with that trend as well. But personally? I have few people I can call a "friend" and even then, my definition is most likely skewed compared to theirs. And what else? Bugs? That's it? _Yeah, that's it._

I lean forward a bit more and scrub my face with my hands. My eyes feel puffy and I'm sure I look like shit. I feel it. But right now I couldn't care less. My friend is on a table with countless doctors' fingers and instruments in him, all because of my word.

As if on cue, an older man adorned in sea foam scrubs walks into our camp. He is wiping his hands with a towel and I can see tiny blood drops against the green. _Jim's blood._

"Dr. Grissom?" Five heads pop up, but only one answers.

"Dr. Mentzer," I greet him weakly. "Did it go okay?"

"As well as can be expected. We were able to successfully dislodge the bullet with no immediate effects to Jim's brain, but we won't know for sure for a couple days. He'll have to be observed."

"Oh." I look down to my hands, now folded together. "Have his odds changed?"

"No. He isn't out of dark waters yet." He looks around the room. "I'm sure Jim appreciates all of your support, but it will be awhile before you'll get a chance to see him."

Dr. Mentzer was met with blank stares all around, but slowly realization dawned on them one by one. Satisfied that they got the hint, he gave a nod to me and left the room.

"Yeah… you're right, doc," Nick nodded. "We can come back tomorrow. C'mon Greg." He gently shook Greg's shoulder. "C'mon." Greg made no move to get up immediately, but soon acquiesced and stood. Nick asked, "You comin' 'Rick?"

"Nah man. Not yet." He shook his head. "I'm gonna go check on Cat." He thumbed toward the elevators.

"Oh… oh, good. Yeah… she needs you."

Warrick answered with a nod and left in the direction of the elevators.

Nick is looking at the two of us now, but I doubt he'll ask if I'm leaving. Instead, he simply says "See you tomorrow," and they left.

She is still here, but I'm not surprised. A couple years ago and she would have only been here for Jim. Now? She's here for the both of us. My focus is on the new floor tile by my left foot this time. Nothing left to do but catalog the number of flecks.

_One… two… three four… five… _

I hear a magazine get set down.

…_six… seven eight nine… ten… eleven twelve…_

Something squeaks against the vinyl of the chairs. Her shoe, perhaps, fighting its way out from underneath her, allowing her to work her way to a standing position.

…_thirteen fourteen… fifteen… sixteen…_

Another squeak and a small whoosh of air, along with a slight jarring of my vision. The chair directly to my right is now occupied.

…_seventeen… eighteen nineteen twenty… twenty-one…_

"We should go too, Griss."

…_twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four… twenty-five… twenty-six…_

"I'd rather stay here."

…_twenty-seven twenty-eight…_

"You should get some rest. You've been up for hours."

…_twenty-nine…_

"I'll rest here."

…_thirty…_

"No. You won't. Go home, Griss."

…_thirty-one…_

"What about you?" I finally turn my head to look at her.

"I'll go too. I just had to… make sure someone told _you_ to go also." She smiles shyly, but keeps her eyes locked onto mine. When I make no effort to get up, I feel her stand up, grasp my hand and tug. "We're not staying here. Go home."

Her hand is so soft against mine. Warm, but not hot. Moisturized. Her pulse is racing; I can feel it through her fingers. She can probably feel mine too. There is a reason I've avoided touching her for so long, for it'd only produce this reaction. I don't want to let go.

I bring my head up and look at her, meeting her eyes with my own. She's nervous, but confident. She's trying to help but afraid of the reaction. She's holding on… and doesn't want to let go either.

"Stay with me," I whisper and squeeze her hand.

She blinks but continues to stare, to hold on.

"Stay with me, Sara." I say it a little louder.

Blinking again, she asks, "…here?"

I shake my head. "No. I'm going home. But I don't… I could really use a friend right now. Sara, I need you."

Whispering, "Are you sure?"

I quietly chuckle. "Yeah. Dreams, Sara… remember?"

Blushing, she nods. "I remember."

"Thank you." I use her hand to help me stand up, but don't let go. I squeeze her hand again, keeping the contact, and stand close to her. "Thank you, so much."

She returns with a gentle squeeze of her own. "For you, Griss."

'_For us'_ I think as we walk down the hallway. _'For us.'_

**END**


End file.
